


Virago

by organnaa



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Female Knights of Ren, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/organnaa/pseuds/organnaa
Summary: Before the rise of Kylo Ren, you had loved a man named Ben Solo. You had promised that young Jedi that you would follow him to the edge of the galaxy. At the time, you had no idea of the depth of that commitment.The Knights of Ren are a group of force-sensitive, masked warriors that blindly serve every beck and call of their master. As neither Jedi nor Sith, their only loyalties lie with the dark side of the force, Kylo Ren, and the promise of mass destruction. And, for better or for worse, you are a founding member.
Relationships: Knights of Ren/Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Kudos: 11





	1. Little Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Be careful, little hero. Commander Ren will quickly betray you if you give him the chance. He’ll ax your position in seconds if you’re not careful."

Right now, your job is to be silent - to observe, take notes, and report back later. You have to keep reminding yourself: 

You are not wearing your armor. 

You are not wearing your mask. 

You are not carrying your ax. 

You are not Kylo’s Knight. 

You are Kylo’s glorified assistant, in a short skirt and winged eyeliner. 

Your designation is LO-501. 

These people can see when you are rolling your eyes... Why do you keep rolling your eyes? 

You are a distraction, with the goal of pulling the favor of the blue-balled, pot-bellied men that are employed by The First Order toward the ideals harbored by your master. 

Of all of the “chores” the Knights must do here on Starkiller, being Kylo’s au pair has to be one of the worst - followed closely on the list by cleaning the only working refresher in the Night Buzzard after an extended mission, and piecing together the parts of the blast door to Kylo’s quarters after he has a particularly disastrous tantrum. At least there is a challenge in those tasks; while you are taking notes, your brain is left to melt into a useless pile of slime. 

You are one of the greatest force wielders in the galaxy, and you have been boiled down to this. 

A scribe. 

A note taker. 

Kylo’s hot piece of ass that he carts through Starkiller Base as… A distraction? A warning to the other female workers? Are you the only one of us that can read and write in Aurebesh? Who knows his motivation - maybe just because you are the “prettiest’ of Ren’s Knights. Not that it meant much to be the prettiest. 

To be fair to all sexual orientations that may or may not be present within the high ranking officials of The First Order, at least a few of them would appreciate the presence of an attractive male; the other knights just aren’t exactly table trained. To put it lightly, they are burly, hairy, oversized, rowdy men. They rarely bathe, and are highly prone to trailing dirt and mud (and sometimes blood) through the pristine halls of the base. You are guilty of this, as well. You just so happen to be the only knight that was graced with the gift of tits, and the ability to understand when you should wipe your feet before walking. 

When it comes to battle strategy and war tactics, you are less than enthusiastic to participate in discussion. You are to listen to a large group of men talk about their important manly jobs, while their overwhelming levels of testosterone helped them fight for dominance within the situation. Their personalities clash, they scream at each other, and, usually, someone ends up dead by the end of the meeting. Death is not a considerable concern of yours, but many of the officials within this conference room have sweat formed along their brow as pure, unadulterated fear pours out of them. 

Kylo had once told you, “Be seen, but not heard. Learn what you can. You’re attractive; use that if you must. That will be enough to overcome the tempers of most of the men that surround you.” 

According to Kylo, you are too easily distracted - he told you that you pay too much attention and see too much. You can feel the pulse, the life force, of each soul that surrounded me. You can see their internal conflicts, sense their decisions, and influence their thought process with less than a single thought of your own. You can change their self-image, or change their image of you. You can make them fear you, you can make them love you, you can make them rue the day that they were even born. Sadly, your skills are weak, unfocused, and unharnessed. Kylo says, if you can learn to harness these skills, you can use them for your benefit rather than your own downfall. 

He wasn’t wrong. Even still, you are not usually the best at your job. 

The people that surround you, despite their varying ranks and responsibilities, all exude one consistent characteristic: narcissism. Their sense of grandiose self-importance, if you are not completely concentrating, can mask their real emotions and thoughts. By focusing on a single force signature, you can decipher more about their internal musings. One man in particular sits across the table and three seats to the left of Kylo. His chain of thought is almost completely silent, save a few instances of intruding cat noises that play through his subconscious. Every time you look through his eyes, you do not see him looking at the holoprojections that are in front of him. Instead, he is watching the ground near his own feet, making eye contact with himself in the reflection on the shiny black surface. Every so often, he wiggles his eyebrows in a wave-like pattern and shoots finger-blasters at himself. 

Most of the time, you can use my natural features to your advantage; you can slightly pull the hem of a piece of your clothing in a certain direction or place a certain thought into their head, and the men around you turn into putty in your hands. Three months ago, you won a bet against Auric by convincing one of the stormtroopers to give me five death sticks for showing him your - 

“Hero,” you hear Kylo’s voice say. You quickly look up from the datapad in your hands to see if he had spoken the words, or forced them into your thoughts. Kylo’s eyes are dark as they bore into the side of a man’s head, leading me to believe that the voice had come from within your own mind. 

Connecting the bridge between us, you silently answer, “Yes, master?” You attempt to continue typing the dialog that you are hearing around you, while also watching the minute changes in Kylo's facial expression and body language for signs of distress. As always, his expression is limited - hardly different from the cold metal helmet that usually sat on top of his head. Kylo has mastered the technique of hiding his emotions from his force signature. If you had not spent the majority of your life reading his mood from a small twitch of his mouth or crinkle near his eye, you would not be able to see the annoyance growing in him. Kylo turns his face further from your view, hiding his features from you, almost as if he knows what you are trying to do. 

“Keep it together, Hero. We cannot afford for you to lose your… temper,” Kylo plants the words into your head, “Bury the emotion.” 

Looking down at the clothes that adorn your body, specifically the silver crest of the First Order dangling on a fine chain around your neck, you are brought back to reality. Although you are still covered in your usual black fabric, it is not the material that usually conceals the feelings currently coursing through your veins. It is much sheerer, and much more revealing. Designed to show your figure, rather than protect your major organs. 

“Yes, master,” you answer back to him, via the link that joined our thoughts. By creating this bridge via the force, he also is hearing all of the other thoughts of rage, frustration, and boredom that are streaming through your head. If he gets to see into your brain without your permission, you are definitely going to fill his head with all of the nonsense that you have to offer. You figure that it is a fair exchange. 

As if he is taking his own advice, Kylo’s torso elongates with the straightening of his spine. The cowl that had been wrapped tightly around his shoulders is beginning to loosen, revealing his dark tunic. Through the body armor he has on, it is difficult to see his movement, but you can see his breath fill his chest. Over the course of the meeting, Kylo’s appearance has become greatly disheveled, and his hand constantly twitches toward the lightsaber that is attached to his belt. I have heard a few of his thoughts of dismemberment and carnage - mostly directed at the loud-mouthed general that sat opposite to him. A few times, he has even contemplated reaching for the smaller weapons hidden within your own attire and has prepared to primitively rip the man’s throat out as an example of what happens to people that run their mouths. To diffuse some of his exasperation without creating violence, Kylo’s fingertips drum against the edge of the table, creating a familiar tune that you cannot quite place within your memory. 

Kylo rolls his shoulders back, before grabbing his helmet off of the table in front of him. In a fashion that almost seemed bored, Kylo sighed dramatically, pushing his leather-covered hand through his wall of hair. You hear the seals of his mask hiss and his voice modulator engages as the mask tightens against his jaw bone and around his forehead. 

Once more, Kylo’s voice is playing in my mind, “Are you ready to leave?” This time, you can feel Kylo looking at me. You slowly lift your eyes to the ceiling and then lower them back to the datapad in front of you. Only Kylo knows that you are signaling to him your agreement. If anyone else saw the small movement, they would just assume that you were distracted for a moment. 

Kylo briefly put his attention on the modified comlink attached to his sleeve. He taps the screen a few times before he focuses back on the conversation at hand. You are in the middle of transcribing a statistic about some random uninhabited planet on the outer rims when a new message appears on my screen. 

**Sender:** Comlink MF-12  
**Standard Time:** 14:45:18  
**Message:** In 2 minutes, announce that we must leave as demanded by the Supreme Leader. -Ky 

**Sender:** Comlink MF-12  
**Standard Time:** 14:45:35  
**Message:** And make it convincing, Hero. 

**Sender:** Datapad LO-501  
**Standard Time:** 14:46:03  
**Message:** Got it, BOSS - H 

You watch the clock on the wall tick at what seems to be half-speed. Faintly, you can hear Kylo tapping the underside of the table impatiently, in sync with the smallest hand on the clock. After a minute and forty-seven seconds, you are fed up and done waiting. You lean forward towards Master Ren, placing your right hand on his left shoulder. You bend at the waist, bringing your mouth closer to his ear. 

In a hushed tone that is just loud enough for the others to hear over the sound of the room, you say, “Commander Ren, The Supreme Leader has requested your presence in a meeting, and your knights have returned from their exploratory excursion. Kandor has communicated that he has new information that he wishes to share with you, as soon as possible.” As you speak, both you and Kylo exude influential emotions of comprehension and sympathy to the weaker minds around the two of you. When you had leaned forward to be on the same level as Kylo, the neckline of your top fell to expose even more of your chest. You can feel the eyes on you, multiple men continuing to undress you in their minds. The thoughts and images present in their heads make your skin crawl. Visions of your own body, in lewd and disgusting situations, filtered into your thoughts. 

As quickly as the images had appeared, Kylo blocks the thoughts of the men from your head, releasing a low growl that reverberated lowly in his chest. The change in his demeanor is immediate - you’re sure that even people that are not force sensitive can feel the change in the atmosphere. Kylo’s shoulders drop, and, for the first time during this meeting, he actually grabs the lightsaber on his waist. He starts to lunge forward toward the man with the best (well, in this case worst) imagination. Before he can take action, you are able to discreetly stop the motion of the ignition switch on his saber, disallowing him from attacking. His attention quickly turned to you, a flame burning behind his eyes. 

Without so much as another word, Kylo stands fully, pushing his chair back away from the table. He wraps his hand tightly around your upper arm and pulls you towards the exit. Your eyes linger on the men behind you; expressions of fear, anger, and intimidation present. When you and Kylo are three steps from the control panel for the door and mere milliseconds from being outside of the room, you see one of the men behind you begin to stand. His bright red hair clashes with the red accents on his uniform and his face is drawn into a position as if he had just smelled an entire vat of spoiled blue Bantha milk. One man that has never been influenced by your “womanly gifts” is General Armitage Hux. 

“Be careful, little hero. Commander Ren will quickly betray you, if you give him the chance. He’ll ax your position in seconds if you’re not careful,” the displeased ginger said in a way that suggested that he was all too familiar with my situation and Kylo’s outbursts. 

Kylo lets go of your arm to type his passcode into the panel, curving his body around my own, attempting to hide the table from my view. You watch as his other hand twitches slightly in front of his waist. Over Kylo’s shoulder, General Hux’s body rises into the air, over the table, and into the wall. Kylo lets him go, and Hux falls quickly back to cower in the corner that Kylo had forced him into. By the feeling of the aura around him, you can tell that he is not injured more than his wilting ego shrinking in size and impact. 

Hux is still on the ground as the door opens, and Kylo again grabs your arm to pull you through. Another slight movement of his free hand and the door behind us closes. You can feel the indignation and displeasure radiating from his body. 

“You can’t be mad at me; I didn’t antagonize him this time,” you whisper to Kylo, striving to change his mood. He pulls you by the arm towards his office, and, again, you can not see his face. His shoulders tense in response to your comment, but that is the only reaction he gives you. 

Moving through the halls, countless wondering and concerned eyes follow you and Kylo. No one dares to question Kylo Ren, but quite a few individuals seem to feel slightly anxious for your well being. One ‘trooper even contemplates questioning the situation, but after seeing the hints of massacre and slaughter that is localized to Kylo’s face, he quickly re-evaluates his plan. Holding his tongue, the ‘trooper said nothing, staying at his post, to watch Kylo violently yank you through the hatch and into his office. 

Kylo quickly turns to face you, his chest directly in front of your face. Instinctively, as if you are holding your usual ax, you swing the datapad in your hand toward his shoulder. Before I can make contact with him, he catches both of my hands in one of his, “Sorry, master,” I whisper, smiling shyly up at him. 

Kylo removes his helmet and throws it haphazardly onto the corner of his desk, where it landed on top of a few stray sheets of paper and other garbage. He adds the datapad that you had been holding to a stack of file folders. He removes his gloves, topping the pile. Among the clutter, you notice a leather-bound book. It is opened to a page with the heading “The Chosen One.” In Kylo’s elegant handwriting one word was jotted into the margin: “Anakin.” 

His eyes are still dark when he says, “He knew, Hero. He knew who you are.” 

“He didn’t. Should I call for the other knights?” you ask, wanting to distract him from the obvious fact that Hux definitely knows not only that you are one of his knights, but also which one you are. 

“It could be dangerous if he knows who you are,” Kylo says, frowning. He lifts his arm to brace himself against the wall behind your head. With every word he says, you watch his Adam's apple bob.

You shrug. “It won’t be dangerous. I promise.” 

“If you lose your anonymity to the members of the First Order, you can no longer serve as a faceless servant. It would make you a target,” his lips curl back from over his teeth, “A target to my enemies, and, especially, a target to the Resistance.” He drops his head to watch your feet, visibly shaking with a mix of fury and fright. He has one of his arms wrapped around his lower abdomen, while his other was at his side, clenches and unclenches into a fist. 

You wrap my hands around his wrists, guiding him to stand in front of me as you walk back to the edge of his desktop. Jumping slightly, you sit awkwardly on top of the mess. Sighing loudly, you start to hum the tune that he had been drumming in the meeting, causing him to look at my face again. Still holding his wrists, you swing our arms from side to side, moving my shoulders to the rhythm. When you got to the end of what you had heard, the side of his mouth rose into a heartbreaking smile. Flipping his wrists out of your grasp, he interlocks your fingers, bringing both of your hands to cradle in the middle of his chest. He finishes the song under his breath. The words were completely unfamiliar to you, but the melody was soothing. 

“What language was that one in, Ky?” His eyes were directed towards your face, but you’re not sure that he was actually able to see you. 

“Mando’a. I think I heard someone sing it when I was younger.” Briefly, he brings your hands to his lips, before walking away once more. Unwilling to drop your hold on him, your arms are strained in his direction until you have to let go. 

When you fold your legs under you and turn around to look at him, Kylo has your datapad in his hand. He must have figured out that the highly secure, impenetrable passcode was his birthday. 

“Why the hell do you take these notes in High Galactic? You know that I can’t read it,” He notices the amusement in my eyes before continuing, “And I know that you can write in Aurebesh!” 

“If I wrote them in Aurebesh, you wouldn’t need me to read them to you,” you mumble. 

“If you didn’t have to read them to me, we could spend our time together doing more important things, min larel,” he answers sarcastically. 

You laugh. “Oh, that’s a cute one, Ky. What language is it? Mando’a, again? Ubese? Sith?” 

His smile finally reached his eyes, “It’s Old Corellian for ‘extremely important, highly appreciated, valuable knight.’” 

Shaking your head from side to side, you say, “I think you should check your dictionary, laserbrain.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I can always find myself a replacement translator if you’re going to keep giving me this attitude every time.” 

“Good luck finding someone willing to put up with your attitude, sir.” you are suppressing a smile, your faces just inches apart. You watch as his eyes flit back and forth between your eyes and your lips. 

“My sweet, expendable little Hero,” as he speaks, his eyes remain on your lips. 

The tips of your noses brush together. “You stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf herder,” you mumble quietly, your eyes beginning to close. 

Before anything more can happen, a booming thud in the hallway causes the two of you to jolt back from each other - the other Knights of Ren had arrived at the office. Kylo pinched the skin between his brows, closing his eyes. 

“Fuck the knights,” you chuckled darkly. 

“You’d better change,” Kylo reaches behind his desk to grab your helmet from where he had stashed it earlier, “it would be best that the five of them do not see you… like this.” 

As you pull your blouse over your head, you feel Kylo attempting to pass you your undershirt, followed by your plastoid armor, and black tunic. You struggle to buckle the waist of your leather pants and hoist your heavy cloak over your shoulders. While you were changing, you could sense his eyes drinking in my appearance. Even now that you are clothed, you can feel his lust grow with the power that your ensemble causes you to radiate. Before you can tuck your hair into your helmet, Kylo rests his hand against the side of your face. 

“Will you come to my quarters tonight? I need you to…” he lets the end of his statement hang in the air, unwilling to finish his thought. His eyes move slowly upward to the ceiling, trying to allude to what he wants. 

Oh. His hair. 

“Sure thing, Ky.” You shrug. 

He cocks his eyebrow, an inquisitive look on his face, “We’re on the same page, then?” 

“Yes. I will come to your quarters tonight and touch up your roots. Are you going to let me cut your hair, too? I wasn’t kidding when I called you scruffy.” You put your hand over his as he holds the side of your head. 

He ignored your comment about his growing hair before suggesting, “I’ll braid your hair again as a thank you if you’d like.” At that second, you remember the way that you had styled your hair earlier that morning. He hates when you wear your hair like this; it reminds him too much of his mother. 

You remove the pins that hold your hair, allowing it to fall between the two of you. He helps you to twirl it in a way that permits it to be stuffed into your protective skull cap, and hidden under your helmet. 

“Brief your fellow knights of the information you recorded earlier. Make sure that they are ready for departure by 06:00 tomorrow morning. Don’t worry about preparing the Night Buzzard, we will all be taking the Command Shuttle.” His hand tightens slightly under your own, his nails digging slightly into the soft skin of your cheek. After one more meaningful gaze, Kylo drops his hand and turns to sit behind his desk. Somehow, his large frame seems to diminish the size of the oversized piece of furniture. 

“I guess I can leave you alone… I’ve got a title to defend - Dex challenged me to a rematch game of dejarik.” You smile at him, half of your body already out of the hatch. 

“That’s great,” he says monotonously. 

With just your head still inside of his office, you tell him, "I’ll miss you, Ky.” 

“I’ll see you soon, angel,” he muttered, his focus completely locked on the map in front of him. The playful energy that had been present only moments before is gone - he is back to being Commander Ren - absorbed in his work, obsessively determined to aid in leading The First Order to greatness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links:  
> [Starkiller Base](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Starkiller_Base) ,  
> [Night Buzzard](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Night_Buzzard) , [Refresher](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Refresher) , [Aurebesh](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Aurebesh) , [Holoprojector](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Holoprojector/Legends) , [Death Sticks](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Death_stick/Legends) , [Force Signature](https://swfanon.fandom.com/wiki/Signature_\(Identity\)) , [Comlink](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Comlink) , [Outer Rims](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Outer_Rim_Territories) , [First Order Insignia](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/First_Order_insignia) , [Blue Bantha Milk](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Blue_milk/Legends#:~:text=Blue%20milk%2C%20sometimes%20known%20as,that%20it%20was%20also%20sweet.) , [Mando'a](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Mando%27a/Legends), [High Galactic Standard Writing](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/High_Galactic_alphabet) , [Old Corellian Language](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Olys_Corellisi) , [Space Slang - "Laserbrain"](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/List_of_phrases_and_slang) , [Dejarik](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Dejarik)


	2. Fuck the Knights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no way that Kylo Ren has naturally black hair.

Sitting on the cool floor of the docked Night Buzzard, you let out a sigh as you attempt to remember all that you had overheard and taken notes on in the meeting with Kylo and the other superior officials of the First Order. 

Below you, you can feel all of the rivets and minuscule cracks in the steel that allow for the frigid air of the planet Ilum to filter through the open hanger and into the cabin of our ship. The metal creaks and moans each time there is slight movement, as if protesting the fact that it is required to bear any weight. Somewhere within the ship, you can hear multiple drips of various liquids hitting the surfaces below them, creating small lakes of potentially hazardous materials. From the cockpit, you can hear multiple alarms blaring, accented every so often by a curse word or phrase from the knight that is working. These imperfections will all need to be mended before you can venture out of the planet's atmosphere in the future. That is, if you wanted to avoid the guarantee of certain death by being exposed to the vacuum of open space. 

You had left Kylo's office less than twenty standard minutes ago. You are no longer wearing your mask, and you had pulled your hair back out from under the cap that had been protecting it. To replace the cap, you had pulled your hood over your head, partially covering your eyes; the created shadows obscuring your facial expressions. Of course, the other knights could sense your unease, but they did not need to know the specific emotions that were conflicting within you. Your brain is still struggling to comprehend the anxiety that Kylo felt about your potential identity reveal, distracting you from the task at hand. The letters on your datapad are clear and concise. You could decipher the words that they form, but you cannot string the words into sentences, or the sentences into broad ideas. Even more disastrous, this task has a timeline - Kylo would be addressing his knights soon, and they need to be given the basic information in advance. 

Around you, Kylo's other knights are completing various post-mission duties to repair and tidy your communal ship and motionary home. Dirty silverware and empty ration packs are scattered across the floor and countertops, while clothing soiled in mud and blood are piled in all of the dark corners. Dex sits in front of you, balancing a holochess board on a worn-out cardboard box. The pieces of the board, despite being constructed of fiberplast, appear frail in comparison to his rugged hands. The dusky appearance of the board causes it to stand out harshly against his translucent ivory skin. Although the board had originally been one used for standard games of Dejarik, on one of our distant missions, Dex had modified it to be more than twice the normal size. Games played on this board can take hours to complete; hours that you do not have available tonight. 

"Can we use a smaller board? I have something I need to do tonight," you ask Dex. 

Dex looks up at you, narrowing his eyes as he focuses on you. Deciding that a compromise is easier than starting a fight, he sighs dramatically before standing. He drops his Riftiaworm- hide coat onto the floor before making his way over to the hidden cupboard above the nanowave stove to grab the standard board. 

"Hot date later, Hero?" Elek calls from his spot on the threadbare couch that was located to your left. As usual, Millicent is curled up on his chest, purring quietly each time Elek pets her. 

"If by 'hot date' you mean more briefing with Master Ren..." you say snarkily, making air quotes as you speak, "then yes." The breezy air in the ship nips at your skin, causing you to pull your cloak tighter around your body. 

Dex scoffs as he sits down again, saying, "Yeah, I'm sure he'll 'brief' you all night long." The room is filled with varying degrees of hysterics, all but Kandor and I roar with laughter. Even though he isn't in the room, you can still hear Makoa in the cockpit chuckling loudly at Dex's joke. 

Once the racket has died down, Kandor matter of factly says, "You're all just mad that she's getting more action than any of you." You are beyond shocked at the fact that Kandor chose to defend you. Of all of Ren's Knights, he is the most perceptive of interpersonal relationships and interpreting the emotions of those around him. Therefore, out of all of them, you are sure he is the most knowledgeable about the depth of your relationship with Kylo Ren. 

"Speak for yourself, Kandor. I get plenty of action," Elek says, laughter once again interrupting his words as he tries to speak. 

"Your right hand and those raunchy old holograms don't count, El," Kandor states, no humor buried in his tone. Every jaw in the room drops, while Kandor looks complacent. The tension surrounding the group continues to grow, further thickening with every second that passes. 

Trying to break the silence, Auric sucks his teeth. You see his head pop into your line of vision from across the room as he tries to see the expressions on each of the faces around him. Other than his earlier laughter, this is the first noise he has made in the entire conversation that allows you to identify his individual presence. If you were being honest, you had forgotten he was in the ship with you - he had been tucked under the sink, fixing one of the leaking pipes, when you had entered the room. Sadly, the sound he made did not diffuse the situation. 

"Master Ren is not giving me any action," you lied through your teeth, knowing that at least Kandor understood the depth of my deception. If you had any luck, the walls you have built up in your head would block the other knights from knowing the truth. 

"You're definitely his favorite, Hero. Even if you're not getting anything, he still favors you," Auric shrugs. 

"Ky does not favor me. I am not his favorite. I am just the best at following orders," you fire back. 

"Hero, look," Elek pauses to take a quick drink of some strange amber liquid he had found while cleaning the ship, "To put it simply, if any of the rest of us dared to call him by his first name, he'd shank us... In the face... With his lightsaber... And you call him by a pet name, too!" He paused after each beat, to increase the emphasis of each statement. 

"His name is Kylo. I call him Kylo," you answer, your voice questioning, not quite understanding what he was implying. 

As if they are in some type of rounded chorus, four of the knights sang out different sentences containing the name "Ky," calling me out on another lie. 

Kandor yells over the ruckus, "You all call her by a nickname, too! Leave the poor girl alone." 

"Yeah, right! Just like Ren, if any of us called her by her real name, she'd kill us." Auric says. 

My vision turns slightly red as Auric's words register in my head, "That is not my real name. My real name is Hero. His real name is Kylo Ren. That is what matters. And all of you will address us as such." Auric cowers as you scream into his face. When your voice fades, the room is quiet again. 

"You and Ren are definitely the perfect couple," Elek utters, "Match made by the Daughter." 

Kandor grabs you around the waist to keep you from disemboweling and ripping the face off the knight that is still lounging on the couch. Elek is unphased; he continues to lay comfortably on his back, trying his hardest to not disturb the cat that is now asleep on his chest. Kandor does not let go until you are out of breath and no longer struggling against his grip. 

Redirecting your attention, Kandor hands you my datapad before asking, "Do you want to fill us in on the mission?" 

Trying further to self-soothe, you run your hands over your head, attempting to bring order back to the unruly strands of your hair. Your voice is still shaking as you go on to say, "We're going to Jakku, boys." You walk toward the main computer of the ship, connecting your datapad to the main holoprojector, in order to give the knights a visual representation of all you are going to be saying. 

Auric groans, but pulls up a chair to the counter to get a better view of the information being projected. Having grown up on the beautiful planet of Naboo, surrounded by roaring waters and luscious fields of greenery, he never is enthusiastic to travel to the desert planets that are often the target of your many missions. 

"As you all know, the location of Luke Skywalker, hereinafter referred to only as 'The Jedi,' has been of utmost importance to Master Ren as of late. The wicked Jedi Order will be completely eradicated with the death of The Jedi by Master Ren, fulfilling the prophecy as told by the Supreme Leader. According to an incredibly reliable source, an explorer known as Lor San Tekka is hiding a portion of the map that will lead us directly to the location of The Jedi," you pause to display the most recent hologram of the elderly man, "We will be leaving at 06:00 in Master Ren's Command Shuttle, accompanied by Captain Phasma and a few units of her 'troopers." 

"Where on Jakku?" Kandor asks, his eyes still taking in the face of Tekka. His fingers grip the edge of his chin, turning white with the pressure he is applying. 

"Tuanul." You project a map of Jakku, zooming in to find the target of your mission, "I was also told to inform you that there are villagers in the area that may need to be eliminated to preserve the integrity of The Order." 

Kandor nods, standing from his seat, and pacing back and forth across the threshold. The Knights of Ren have entered their state of mind that is reserved specifically for mission strategy and information processing. 

"Dex, would you be willing to look at my scythe? I think the vibro-tech setting may be malfunctioning after I dropped it in that pond. I'd ask Albekh, but he may not have the time... and I feel like he'll judge me for dropping it in a pond," Kandor says, motioning to the area of the floor near the ramp that Kandor usually leaves his weapon. Dex gathers the scythe, dons his helmet, and walks down the ramp, intending to venture to the mechanics area of the base. 

With this, the Knights of Ren begin to disperse, each returning to the tasks they had been tending to prior to their briefing. You move to settle into the couch at Elek's feet, bringing your datapad with you. You intended to reread your notes once more to ensure you had not left out any information, but you were quickly interrupted by a message. 

**Sender:** Comlink MF-12  
**Standard Time:** 15:34:58  
**Message:** Change of plans: Inform the Knights that they need to prepare the Night Buzzard. Auric, Dex, and El will be taking it to Jakku. You, Koa and I will be on my Command Shuttle. 

You inform the other knights of the update, as another message appears on your screen. 

**Sender:** Comlink MF-12  
**Standard Time:** 15:35:31  
**Message:** I'm waiting for you, angel. 

You can tell that your face is turning red, and your fingers start to shake slightly with anticipation of the night ahead. You begin to type out a response but are rudely interrupted by Elek struggling to read the messages over your shoulder. 

"Oh, Hero." he signed, laying flat again. 

Sick of his current demeanor, you lift a finger slightly, levitating a throw pillow off the armchair that sits across from the couch. The pillow spins in place a few times before you launch it directly at Elek's face. Easily, he stops it with his mind and laughs under his breath. 

"You're adorable when you're mad," he chuckles. 

"I can literally kill you," you say. 

"I believe you," he replies, sounding dejected. 

Another message. 

**Sender:** MF-12  
**Standard Time:** 15:37:02  
**Message:** Still waiting. 

**Sender:** Datapad LO-501  
**Standard Time:** 15:39:11  
**Message:** I'm sorry, Master. I was under the impression that you wanted to see me tonight. Not this afternoon. 

**Sender:** MF-12  
**Standard Time:** 15:39:54  
**Message:** Another change of plans. Dinner? 

**Sender:** Datapad LO-501  
**Standard Time:** 15:43:03  
**Message:** knights are being problematic. May not be the best idea. 

**Sender:** MF-12  
**Standard Time:** 15:44:44  
**Message:** "fuck the knights." 

Your lips break into a smirk, one corner of your mouth hinting upwards. Deciding to abandon your game of Dejarik, you stand up and you toss your datapad into the cushion that you had been sitting on. Knowing that you will not need them tonight, you remove your plastoid armor, gauntlets, and belt of smoke canisters from your body. Feeling significantly less bulky, you grab your helmet from its stand near the kitchenette, opting to wear your hood rather than fighting your hair to be hidden within the tiny confines of your helmet. The seals hiss as they lock onto the harder parts of your face, and your voice modulator starts to distort the sound of your breathing. You glance toward your ax that is hanging in its sheath on the wall, deciding to leave it behind. Patting yourself down for any other forgotten weapons, you turn back around to face the other knights and grab your datapad once again. 

"El, you should return Millicent to General Hux's quarters before he returns for the night... He already doesn't like us." The voice modulator in your mask causes your statement to sound far harsher than you intended. 

Elek is still stroking the cat, showing no intention of moving. "Well, Millie and I don't like him, either." 

You start to walk toward the still open ramp, when you hear Dex call down to you, "Have a good fuckin' night, Hero!" 

"Yeah, Hero! Have a good fucking night," Elek repeated, changing the emphasis on the words. Laughter fills the cabin and flows out of the ramp once again. Manipulating the force around the both of them, you cause them to feel as if they are being slapped across the face. By the time you reach the end of the ramp, the noises have completely stopped. 

Your feet hit the ground of the hanger, and your datapad dings, signaling another message. 

**Sender:** MF-12  
**Standard Time:** 16:10:05  
**Message:** I just had one of my kitchen droids start some Ryshcate. Another is gathering the supplies for Pakarna 

**Sender:** LO-501  
**Standard Time:** 16:12:18  
**Message:** You'll have to be meaner to me tomorrow - knights are suspicious 

The walk to Kylo's quarters from the docking bay is uneventful. You keep your vision forward, talking to no one as you go. All of the people that you pass give you a wide breadth - one shinie 'trooper went as far as to jump back into the wall, pressing themselves into the metal. You understand their apprehension; the entire goal of your appearance is to intimidate. Even as the smallest of Ren's Knights, your visage and demeanor demand respect. Your footsteps are heavy and threatening, the sound being amplified greatly through the near-empty hallways. Your boots cover your feet and legs to the knee, bordered by the oiled cloak that drags on the floor behind you. This cloak creates the illusion of wider shoulders, further amplifying your frightening appearance. 

The further you walk, the fewer individuals cross your path. Nearing the sector of the base that contains all of the living quarters of the high-ranking individuals, you become more comfortable with your surroundings. As you walk, you break the seal of your mask, removing your helmet to carry under your arm. If anyone happens to be walking back here, they will not be able to identify you due to the low lighting, and dark shadows that your hood throws over your face. 

Standing outside of Kylo's door, you pause to enter your personal identification number into the keypad beside the frame. Before you can finish typing the digits, the door opens to reveal Kylo leaning against the wall just inside. He is no longer wearing his mask and had traded his previous professional attire for a more casual set of jogging pants and a basic cotton shirt. As always, his entire outfit, down to the socks on his feet, is inky black. 

Kylo can see the confusion in your expression, leading him to say, "I could feel you getting closer." You smile, pushing your way past him and into the living area of Kylo's quarters. You can tell that the cleaning droids had recently been through, seeing as the cushions on his ivory couch are straight, and the various rugs in the room had parallel lines throughout from where the vacuum had been passed. The entire space smells heavy of Pakarna, a spicy soup dish that was traditional of our homeworld, that mixed well with the sweet scent of the Ryshcate that you are sure is in the oven baking. 

"I'll be right back, okay?" you call over your shoulder, feeling as Kylo moves back into the kitchen to supervise the droids - as long as you've known him, he's had a strong distrust for this specific type of bot. 

You throw your cloak over the back of one of the couches, before walking swiftly into Kylo's bedroom. His bed is delicately made, and his dirty clothing is stacked inside of his hamper - confirming your inkling that he had had cleaning droids in his chambers earlier that day. In the bottom left drawer of his wardrobe, you find a fresh pair of your undergarments that you had stashed there. Moving a drawer higher, you pull out one of Kylo's training tops, made of thin, breathable material. You shed the clothing that you are wearing, leaving them behind you in a pile as you walk into the refresher with your clean clothing in hand. 

Kylo had placed your care products on the counter near the sink, next to an entire collection of folded black towels. You grab one of the largest, looping it through the handle on the door of the shower. You wash quickly, not taking time to dawdle, refusing to allow yourself to relax under the stream of scalding water that is hitting your body. 

When you are washing the conditioner out of your hair, you hear Kylo walk into the refresher with you. Through the fogged glass of the shower, you see him sit down on the marble countertop, crossing his legs under himself and pulling out a datapad. 

"Can I help you?" you say, laughing lightly, having to shout over the sound of the running water. 

All he says is, "Your presence is soothing." 

Finishing your hair, you move on to clean your body, using a grey washcloth to spread Kylo's bay rum and oakmoss scented soap over yourself. Rinsing one last time, you let the water hit your face. You close your eyes and finally allow yourself a moment of tranquility. Kylo clears his throat softly, drawing you out of your stupor. Turning off the water, you wrap the towel around your middle to cover the majority of your body. 

Kylo looks up from his datapad, meeting your eyes with his own. "Are you okay? You're uneasy," he says, using his ability to sense your emotion. 

"Completely fine," you say, trying to slow the racing of your heart to mask the emotions you are feeling. He watches you grab another towel, fastening this one around the top of your head. You pull on the clean pair of panties and Kylo's shirt, dropping the towel that was around your middle. He jumps off of the countertop, reaching out to retrieve and hang it in the drying rack on the wall. 

Kylo rests his weight against the edge of the counter, while you reach down under the sink to collect the box of dye that you will be using on his hair. You look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the blush that has collected in your cheeks, noticing the minor vibrancy in your eyes; something that had not been present in quite a while. In the mirror, you watch Kylo stand back to his full height. He lifts his hands to your waist, pulling the back of your body to press against his front. His head ducks lower, placing his chin on your shoulder, and his eyes find the reflection of yours. 

"We have a lot to do tonight, mister," you mumble, being distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours. 

"Master," he corrects slyly. 

You roll your eyes. "We have a lot to do tonight, _master_." 

His lips brush against the side of your neck, nipping lightly at the skin that covers the curve of your jaw. "We can always make the time." 

You cup the side of his head with your palm, the size of your hand paling in comparison to his face. You see his eyes close, and he hums contently. Pulling away from his warmth, you gather the supplies that you will need to work on his hair. 

Kylo follows you out of the refresher, through his bedroom, and back into the living space. You sit down on the couch nearest to the kitchen, placing all of the goods beside you. Kylo tries to sit in the limit space in front of you on the couch but slides down onto the carpet when he realizes that he will not fit. 

"Brave of you to let me do this on your white couch," you tell him, mixing the ingredients to form the dye in the provided bottle. He wraps the towel around his shoulders to protect his clothing, leaning back to place his head in the cradle that was formed by your legs. 

"I trust you," he mutters. You shake the bottle, watching as his head moves side to side with your own body. His eyes are locked on your chest, both of you smirking as he realizes he had been caught staring. 

"You know, this would probably turn out better if you got a hygiene droid to do it." No matter how many times you colored his hair, you are always apprehensive; completely terrified that you will make all of his hair fall out of his head. He doesn't react to your comment, other than a quick squeeze to your ankle that is by his side. You make fast work of parting sections of his hair, and saturating his light brown roots with the dye. The entire time, you watch over his shoulder as he plays a game of online holochess against an oblivious 'trooper. 

When you are finished applying the color and have allowed it to set, the two of you go into the kitchen to rinse. He bends down in front of the sink, his enormous size causing the scene to appear almost cartoonish. You help him to direct the water over his scalp, watching as the dark slime runs down the drain. Once the water leaving his hair is clear, you lean down to place a soft kiss on the side of his temple before helping him to fashion a towel wrap on the top of his head. 

Returning to the couch, the two of you swap your earlier positions - you now sitting on the floor, with him behind you. His knees are higher than your shoulders, feeling almost as if they are caging you in. His fingers start to grasp the roots of your hair, weaving and pulling the strands into place. Each stitch is graceful, a drastic contrast from the heinous acts that you know his hands are all too capable of. 

You are reveling in the sensation of his hands in your hair when he says, "Sit up straight, angel, or your braid will be crooked." 

"Sorry, my back is fucked up," you swallow heavily, "the knights had the Night Buzzard, so I slept in the pilot's chair of your Command Shuttle all week." 

He ties off the end of one of the intricate braids. "You could have slept here." 

You are silent for a moment, unable to process what he is saying. You stutter, "You were gone most of the time, too." 

"Your PIN will open the door, whether I am here or not. You are always welcome." His fingers linger just below your left ear, tying another piece of hair into place. 

Your brain is still wheeling. "The knights already don't like how much time we spend together." 

"We wouldn't have to tell them," he says nonchalantly. Knowing that Kylo will continue this conversation for hours, you decide to not answer. He continues, "If you don't want to use my quarters, I'm sure I can get you a room here." 

"What?" your voice cracks. 

"Do you want your own quarters on this base?" he asks. 

Your mouth feels as if it is filled with cotton, while your limbs turned into lead. "I don't serve The Order. I'm sure they'd be hesitant to grant me such a luxury." 

You feel his legs move against your sides as he readjusts his posture. "That is true... Luckily for you, I know a guy that might be able to pull a few strings." You are at a loss for words. He adds, "Just think about it, okay?" 

You nod slowly, thinking deeply. A few more moments pass and Kylo continues to twist and manipulate your hair to be braided against your head. He understood that the tighter and more secure the style, the easier it would be for you to fit your helmet over it tomorrow. As you wait for him to finish, a question you have never contemplated before enters your head. 

"Where did you learn how to braid like this?" you ask suddenly. 

Kylo's hands pause briefly, still tangled into your hair. "That is a story for another time, angel." 

Unwilling to drop the conversation, you ask, "Was it your mother?" 

This time, Kylo's hands freeze. You hear his breathing quicken, and sense as he contemplates reaching out to seize his lightsaber from its stand in his bedroom. Quickly, you turn to face him, his hands being ripped from their spots in your hair, realizing what you had just insinuated. 

"Ky-" you start to say, but he is already stalking towards his bedroom, the muscles in his back solidifying further with each step he takes. The door slams, booming through the space, and you hear the deadbolt slide into place. 

Through the walls, you hear the familiar hum of his lightsaber begin, the unstable plasma smacking the air around it. Metal, textile, and marble were no match for his anger - you are sure that anything in his path will be reduced to nothing but curled charred pieces, and smoldering ash. 

The sound of destruction continues long after you curl your body into a small ball on Kylo's couch, mumbling to no one about your arrogance and stupidity for ruining this night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave me any suggestions / critiques you have! I have never written this style of fanfiction (book-format or Star Wars) before. I have experience with different types of fanfiction on Instagram for a different fandom. I’m always looking to improve!
> 
> This story can be read on both Wattpad & AO3, but usually is posted FIRST to Wattpad, due to the fact that less formatting is required.
> 
> Talk to you later this week!!
> 
> Links: [Fiberplast](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Fiberplast) , [Nanowave Stove](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Nanowave_stove) , [Millicent Hux the Cat](https://petropascal.tumblr.com/image/138955563599) , [Rations](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ration_pack) , [The Daughter](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Daughter) , [Albrekh](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Albrekh) , [Corellian Ryshcate](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ryshcate) , [Chandrilian Pakarna](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Pakarna) , [Shinie](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Shinie/Legends)


	3. Dreaming of a Dead Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Solo _was_ alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair Warning: Smut ahead, y'all.

It was dark outside, a few hours past when the suns had set. A decent amount of time had passed since the curfew of the oldest of Luke's apprentices, but you were not yet in bed. In another life, you, and others of your rank, would have obtained the title of 'padawan.' Sadly, resources were thin, and you all were left to fight for attention from your soul mentor - Luke Skywalker. You had just finished your fifth daily required meditation in the temple and had been excused to retire for the night. You reeked of sweat and damp soil, causing your clothes and hair to cling to your skin. As was your routine, you were planning on spending the night in Ben's hut. 

You reached the door, shaking the jitters out of your hands, and stepped through the wooden doorway and into Ben's quaint bedroom. Under the steady rain outside, you could still hear his soft music playing. The calming melody of the Chandrilan beat is in stark contrast to the erratic pumping of your heart, filled with anxiety over the conversation you knew was coming. As usual, Ben's room was left in a state of organized disarray. Thrown over his desk was his calligraphy set, with ink-stained brushes and scrolls of parchment haphazardly scattered over his lightsaber and the other various weapons that he displayed. On the floor, all of his soiled uniforms were separated by color and purpose; formal uniforms in one corner, and daily linens in another, with piles of undergarments and socks stacked between. Although he lives in absolute chaos, each mess was contained. Arranged, sorted, categorized. 

After scanning the room, your eyes finally settle on the bed. Ben was sprawled over the top of his cot, the sheets still perfectly made below him. This cot was the same cot he'd had since he first arrived at the temple nearly 13 years prior. In those years, Ben had grown nearly two feet in height and significantly gained muscle mass over his entire body. The bottom quarter of his legs dangled over the end, despite his head leaning up against the wall behind him. His dark brown hair fell in curtains over his forehead, framing his dark features and causing shadows to form. His eyes were closed, hiding his dark irises from you, but you could tell he was not asleep. His face still held the tension that he carried during the day, rather than his relaxed expression that you knew he had at night. Even so, Ben looked divine; picturesque. 

You know you are dreaming - you've had this nightmare many times. And it always ends the same way. Each time, it breaks your heart. And still, each time, it is a blessing to see Ben Solo once more. 

You crossed the threshold toward the edge of the cot, leading with your open palms. Although you were sure that he could sense your presence, you pressed your hands first into his side, trying not to scare him. He didn't flinch, so you continued forward. Your knees rose hesitantly onto the mattress while you watched his face for any change in his expression. With each movement, you wobbled slightly, the bed drastically too small for the two of you. When your body was finally on the mattress completely, one of Ben's eyes opened slightly, and his face broke into a crooked smile. 

"Hi," he mumbled, his voice thick, "how was your day, angel?" 

Before you can respond, Ben had his hands around your waist, pulling you on top of him. Your knees landed on either side of his hips, and your elbows bending against his chest. Once you recovered from his quick movement, you pushed your arms under his shoulders, clutching his chest to your own. You pressed your face into his neck, breathing in the scent that radiated off of his skin. As tightly as you were holding Ben, he was clutching you even closer. One of his arms was locked over the back of your waist, his hand clamped onto your hip bone, while his other hand kneaded the flesh of your ass. 

You laughed, the anxiety of the day starting to leave your body, "Hi, Benjamin." 

His grip on your hip disappeared, relocating to the other side of your ass. He rolled your hips down into his own, silencing your laughter. 

"You didn't answer my question." His lips were on the base of your neck, pressing softly into your skin. 

"Luke was on my back all day." You gulped. "Literally." 

"I've never understood that practice. What is it supposed to teach you?" Ben brushed the back of his hand over the side of your face, his eyes studying your lips as you spoke. 

"Kriffin' Master Yoda," you said. You paused, taking a deep breath through your nose, reveling in the feeling of Ben's sweater against your face as you pressed into his chest. "I think it's a better tradition than those awful padawan braids. Could you imagine yourself with a single braid? Ours would be nearly a foot long; we've been here so long!" 

Ben's breathing paused below you for a moment, the muscles in his chest flexing. "Don't remind me." 

The tension in the room was nearly palpable. Trying to change the subject, you asked, "What did you do all day?" 

His face was pulled into a broken half-smile, pain-filled his eyes. "I was with Kandor and Auric. And I worked on sparring with Dex." 

"That sounds pretty lovely compared to my day," you said. You began picking at a loose string that was on his shoulder, watching as the fabric puckered and shifted as you pulled. 

"It was not the best." You heard him swallow harshly, and you know that the conversation you were dreading was about to begin. "Did you hear the news?" his voice was raspy as if he was about to cry. 

You lied. "No, what happened?" your tone shook as you spoke. You hoped that he interpreted it as anxiety over what could be wrong, rather than your aversion to lying to him. In truth, Luke had briefed you shortly of the situation, telling you to only bring up the topic if Ben was willing. Ben stayed silent, so you said his name. 

"I'm surprised you haven't heard yet. Everyone has been talking." His chest expands unevenly below your own. You began caressing the sides of his ribcage, seeking to moderate his breathing. 

"I was with Luke all day, training in the woods. I rushed here after he let me leave." 

"It's about Luke and Leia's father." His mouth was set in a way that made it appear as if he was having a difficult time forming the words he wanted to say. "About my grandfather." 

You crane your neck to look up at his jaw, keeping your chests connected. "Anakin? What about him?" 

Ben wouldn't look at your face. His eyes were locked onto the ceiling of the hut above your head. "Their father was Anakin Skywalker. He was a Jedi. A good man. The best starpilot in the galaxy. A cunning warrior. A General in the Grand Army of the Republic. So in love with his wife that he would've done anything to save her. He was Ben Kenobi's best friend," he rattled off. We had all heard these stories from Luke hundreds of times. 

Ben continued, "But he was also Darth Vader." 

You pull away from him, the chain around your neck dangling down between the two of you. "Oh?" you said, trying your hardest to read his facial expressions. 

He didn't respond. The longer the two of you sat in silence, the more erratic his breathing became. You watched the sorrow and pain grow in his eyes, turning into wells of tears. You could see the sobs building in his chest, wreaking havoc on his body, but he held them in with his jagged breath. Ben's hands tightened around your hips, trying to pull you back down to be flat against his chest. You moved your hands from Ben's chest to his face, attempting to pull his attention back to you by maneuvering his jaw to be even with yours. Your hands ran delicately over his face and through his hair, desperately wanting to weed through all of the emotions he was feeling. 

"Are you okay?" you asked, one of your thumbs pausing just below his right eye. 

His head shook side to side between your palms, the tears in his eyes finally rolling down his cheeks. "No." You felt your heart break, the pieces falling to create a heavy feeling in your stomach. 

"Benjamin," you said, again not knowing the words he so desperately needed to hear. 

"I come from a line of monsters," he stated, no wavering in his tone, "You should have seen Dex today. He's still just a kid, but I could see it in his eyes. He's scared of me now. Because I am the byproduct of an evil man." Dex, a fellow student of Luke's, was just a few years younger than you, but he was the closest thing to a little brother that Ben had ever experienced. 

"Look at me, Ben," you grabbed his jaw again, pulling his wandering eyes back to your face. His muscles trembled below you, his lungs begging to release their sobs, and his tears continued to gather. His forehead was feverish when you kissed it. 

"You are not a monster," you ruffled his hair as you pushed it back off of his forehead, watching the waves move through your fingers. "There is not a single piece of you that I would consider evil." 

His lips shook, and his brow crinkled. "Angel," he managed to say, his voice breaking with each syllable. 

"It's okay. You are good," you kiss his forehead again. "And kind." You pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose. "Smart, and brave, and admirable." You card your fingers through the hair on the side of his head, just above his ear. "Funny, and loving, and sweet." Your lips peck the tip of his nose. "Understanding, gentle." Your lips then ghosted over his, so close that you could feel his breath on your face and the heat radiating off of his reddened skin. You added, "And tall." 

His mouth twitched upward, nearly forming a smile. "Tall?" 

"Am I wrong?" You were smiling then. "You're tall. And I love that you're tall." 

He scoffed, relenting. His eyes closed, and he tilted his chin to connect his lips with yours. You pulled your face back, denying him. His eyes opened once again, focusing on your mouth. 

"You're Ben. And I love Ben with my entire being," you tell him; Ben was still watching your mouth. 

"Will you kiss me now, please?" Without another word, Ben's lips were on yours, swollen and slightly damp, while his hands glided over your back and sides. His hands cradled your body, binding the two of you together, as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You were putty in his hands, molding to fit further into his embrace with each passing second. Your fingered threaded through his hair, tugging slightly, and forcing his face closer to your own. Ben's hands began to flutter towards the bottom of your tunic, his fingers cool against your slightly exposed skin. You shivered at his touch, whimpering into him, your tongue moving with his. 

Ben disconnected your lips momentarily, moving the two of you to be sat up against the wall behind the head of his bed. Readjusting you in his lap, you feel the hard bulge in his pants. Ben gasped, your kiss deepening, and he guided your hips to move slowly, almost leisurely, against his own. His other hand was pressed against the back of your neck, bracing it, his thumb curling against the firm curve of your jaw. Desperately, you yanked at the shoulders of the robes that covered Ben's body, praying that he understood your intentions. The kiss broke for mere seconds as he allowed you to remove his top, followed quickly by your own. Struggling for a moment, swearing quietly under his breath, he unhitched the clasp of your bra. 

His eyes were locked on your chest, his hands moving to grope and knead your breasts as soon as they were exposed. Your breathing was shallow with little to oxygen reaching your brain, causing your mind to be a bit fuzzy. 

"Please, Ben," you whispered. With one of your hands caressing his face, the other moves down his chest, over his toned stomach, to the band of his pants. His hands stilled over your chest as you dropped his pants just low enough to release his member. Ben choked, catching your mouth with his, kissing you with desperation. 

Between the two of you, you wrapped your hand around his dick, making Ben's hips jerk up into your own. As you pumped his cock faster, it pulsed and throbbed in your palm. Ben's head flopped back into the wall, whining your name. 

You climbed off the cot to remove your trousers, watching as Ben removed his pants the rest of the way. You hooked your thumbs into the sides of your panties, hurriedly tugging them down your legs while Ben's hand gripped the base of his dick, stroking lightly. His face and chest were flushed pink and glistening with sweat. Distracted by his image, you stepped out of the legs of your panties, catching your heel on the upper band. You stumbled slightly before your hands found the solid side of Ben's cot. You shook the final piece of your clothing off onto the floor, before crawling back to hover your then naked body over Ben's. He eagerly pulled your body towards him, his large hands splaying over your thighs. 

Giggling, you kissed him once again, your hands sliding back down to guide his cock between your folds, slicking it on your juices. Positioning him at your entrance and lowering yourself down onto him, the two of you groaning as he slipped fully inside of you. The intrusion caused your insides to clench around his length, drawing him ever closer. He sucked in a deep breath, grunting, tugging you against him while he urged you to begin to move. 

You raised your hips before dropping them back down repeatedly, rolling to meet the thrusts he was attempting to fuck up into you. Your breathing was coming in huffs, blowing directly into Ben's mouth, open with ecstasy. Your hands, that had been planted on his chest for stability, lift to tangle themselves into the mess of hair on his head, his curls enveloping your fingers. 

" _Stars_ ," you mewled, curling both of your arms behind his head, gripping at the hairs at the base of his neck. With one particularly deep thrust, he collided with the sweet spot inside of you that made your walls clamp down on his cock. He mumbled your name, hiding his nose in the crook of your neck, pressing his lips mercilessly into your skin. He moved his mouth lower, nipping and pecking at your chest, sucking harshly on your delicate skin. Ben's hands twitched on your hip, debating whether or not to touch you elsewhere. Another moan falling from your lips, you grabbed Ben's wrist, guiding his fingers to your clit. He circled your nub, driving his dick into your stomach, slamming his hips into yours. 

You pulled Ben's mouth from your chest and back to your lips, your eyes threatening to close in anticipation of your building climax. Ben's hips continued to buck, building the pleasure in your lower belly, making it harder and harder for you to stay upright on top of him. He watched your facial expressions change and contort as the two of you moved together, his heart swelling each time he saw the pleasure register on your face. 

You shattered with your orgasm, your body cracking at the seams, convulsing around Ben. A hushed howl ripped through your throat as Ben fucked you through your high. He released inside of you, a strangled moan escaping his lips. Your walls continued to spasm around his dick, reveling in the feeling of being filled with his hot cum. 

Both of you spent, you collapse onto Ben's chest, his arms pulling you closer, his cock growing soft inside of you. You snuggled into his chest, recovering from your climax, desperate to make him feel the contentment diffusing from your soul. 

"I love you, angel," Ben whispered, his lips pressed to your hairline. He wrapped one arm around your waist, pressing your bodies together, his other hand gripping at the flesh of your ass. You hummed in response. Every time you heard him say those words, even in a dream, it knocked you off of your feet. Especially this time - the last time you'd ever hear Ben Solo say them. 

Your mental dialog was screaming at you - to tell him how you felt, to let him know how much he meant to you. 

You didn't say it back.  
You didn't say it back.  
You didn't say it back. 

Your biggest regret of the entire night: you didn't say it back. 

Instead, you pulled your body away from Ben's, snatching your panties from the floor, and slipping them onto your hips. You wrapped yourself in Ben's mousy cloak, before turning back to the bed, and climbing in. Before you could cuddle too closely to Ben, he struggled to his feet, fighting the prominent dip of the tiny mattress, to trudge to the refresher. You roll over, your face pressing into the pillows, breathing in the scent that clung to the linens. 

Ben reappeared behind you, his hands clutching your hips, and roughly flipping you onto your back to look at him. You both laughed, his lips pressing softly onto the tip of your nose. When he withdrew, you tapped the tip of his long nose with your index finger, the grin on your face growing as you watched his eyes cross to watch your hand. While he was in the refresher, he had redressed into a white linen top and pale grey leisure pants, an ensemble we were forbidden from wearing anywhere but our personal huts. 

He wriggled into the bed facing you, pulling half of your body onto his, folding his body under yours. His hands wandered under the cloak you were wearing, caressing your skin as if it were made of porcelain. 

"Fuck, the lights," you whispered, realizing neither of you had remembered to flip the switch. 

Ben scoffed. "Oh, shit, what are we going to do?" His tone mocked you playfully as he rolled his eyes. He reached out one of his hands, using the force to extinguish the lamps spread sporadically around the room, leaving the light in the refresher on to cast a light glow over your faces. He kissed your lips one last time, keeping his eyes closed when he rested his head on the pillow. 

Ben's breathing leveled off, and his grip on your body loosened as he fell into sleep. You watched as the muscles in his face relaxed, revealing a man that looked much too young to be dealing with the horrors of your reality. You tried to remember him like this; taking in his features to memorize the curve of his nose, count the freckles on skin, and study the shadows that his eyelashes threw onto his cheekbones. 

As you watched Ben dream, your mind wandered to the issues you knew that the two of you would have to face in the morning. You knew that Ben's momentary break was not even the beginning of the meltdown that was building inside of him. For 23 years, his family had hidden the truth from him, denying him the right to his own identity. Even worse, you thought, they had not told him themselves - he had to find out with the rest of the galaxy from his mother's political enemies during a public forum. You wondered if Luke would send Ben back home to Chandrila, praying that you would get to go with him. Forever hopeful, you had started creating a packing list of things you would want to bring on the potential excursion when you remembered: 

Your lightsaber.   
Your kriffing lightsaber.  
Luke was going to kill you. 

For the seventh time that month, you had left your lightsaber, _your life_ , in the temple after your final meditation. Luke had warned you - one more time... 

Luke's masked threat of revoking your rights to a lightsaber made your decision for you; you needed to return to the temple and find it before Luke did. 

You placed a quick kiss on Ben's forehead before untangling your limbs, trying not to jostle him, hoping that he would remain sleeping while you were gone. 

You had thought you'd only be gone a few minutes; not even long enough for Ben to miss your body heat. You didn't even bother to get dressed, pulling Ben's cloak snuggly around your body. 

Just a few minutes, you told yourself. 

Not long enough for Ben to miss you, your thoughts repeated. 

The lack of light outside did not inhibit your ability to sprint through the camp; you were too familiar with your surroundings. You dodged the residential huts, deserted speeders, exposed tree roots, and wobbly cobstones, racing towards the entrance of the main temple. You stumbled up the steps, tripping every so often. Rounding the corner inside of the door, you stumble to your favorite meditation chamber, begging the Gods that no one would see your nearly nude body under Ben's cloak. Many of the students there may have been suspicious of the two of you, but only Luke and Dex were aware of the full depth of your relationship. Your bare feet smacked against the cold rock below you, echoing through the spacious halls, drawing you closer and closer to your destination. Just as your fingertips grazed the handle of the door, all hell broke loose. 

The blood fell out of your face, and your hands grew cold as your heart began to race. Your brain whirled, trying to process what you had heard. All of your senses heightened as you attempted to reach out with your mind and feel what had just occurred outside. Based solely on the sounds you heard, you assumed the worst - Luke's Jedi Temple was under attack, being destroyed brick by brick, boulder by boulder. You could sense it; the buildings were falling. 

Your mind immediately leaped to the man you had left sleeping soundlessly in his cot. The cot that was far too small for his massive body. The cot he had slept in for more than a decade. The cot he may had been crushed to death on. 

You ran. 

You ran towards the wreckage you knew was outside, not caring as Ben's cloak billowed behind your frame, exposing your partially nude figure. The commotion had awoken many of the students, leading to curious onlookers. As people filtered out of their huts, screams and shouts rang through the air. Your feet carried you further, faster, as every nerve in your body burned at the possibility of finding just his body. 

The only thoughts registering in your mind were: _Please, not him._

Rubble. Ben's hut had been reduced to nothing but a pile of rubble. There were no discernible features left. You could not see the remains of any portion of the building, other than twisted pieces of scrap metal and crumbling stones. 

You could hear the distinct shrieking of a woman nearby, overpowering every other sound. The noise filled your ears and surrounded your entire being. She was sobbing; air struggling to escape her chest, she agonizingly choked on her breath. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest when you realized the noise was coming from your own throat. If anyone had doubted your relationship with Ben before this, their suspicions had just been confirmed. There you stood, wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy underwear and his cloak, wailing for _your Ben_. 

Behind you, you heard your name, loud and clear; his voice ringing in your ears. You turn, expecting to see some kind of ghost. Yet, there he was, standing next to his pseudo- brothers at the apex of the sloping hill next to the temple. His silhouette had never appeared larger; like some kind of beast, his outline stood out against the blood-red sky. The hair on his head was disheveled, and his face was covered in dirt and grime. Truly, he looked like some kind of monster. 

Your mouth formed the shapes of the words you tried to say, but you could not push the air through your lungs to make a sound. The distress in your chest clearing the way for your elation. 

Ben Solo was alive. 

Your legs shook as you ran up the incline, thankful tears pouring from your eyes. Ben caught you, your knees giving out as his arms wrapped around your frame. He lifted you off of the ground, pulling your face into the crook of his neck. His lips press into yours, his large hand gripping the back of your head. The two of you separate, Ben busying his hands by wrapping his cloak tighter around your previously exposed form. Flanking him were Auric, Kandor, and Dex, confusion registering on their faces; they had never seen Ben act like this. 

"What..." you started to ask, unable to finish through your distress. 

Ben's eyes became constructed, his pupils grew darker. He said one word, "Luke." He read the hesitation on your face. "He was going to kill me, baby." 

"Lu-," you stumbled, "Luke Skywalker?" He nodded. "I don't understand." 

"No one is going to believe me." His face screwed up with worry. A flash of realization jumped across his features. "I have to run. They're coming with me." He gestured to the boys behind him. 

The world spun around you, Ben's thumbs rubbing circles on your shoulders. Your thoughts swirled in the air around your head as you grabbed blindly to find the phrases you needed to bring him back to you. 

"Benjamin," you started, your voice faltered, "We should call your mom, or maybe reach out to someone from the Republic. If Luke is dead-" You were cut off abruptly by Ben, his body tensing in front of you. He dropped his grip on you and took a few steps back. 

"No, no, no," he yelled, a wave of anger filling in that you had never seen before, "You're still holding on! Let go! Join me, angel." His hand extended in your direction, a silent representation of his offer. "Please," his voice fissured, his fear showing through his facade. You paused. Ben panicked, choosing to use intimidation to draw him to his cause. He ignited his lightsaber, lifting it to the sky, and shaking it in the direction of the temple. Red storm clouds that matched the color that had clouded his irises appeared above the temple just before a strike of lightning struck the roof. You all watched as the entire structure was set ablaze. 

Slowly, Ben turned back to face you, seeing that your jaw was hanging open in surprise. "I never wanted this," he whispered, disbelief thick in his tone. You could see his fingers shaking, terror beginning to take over as his primary emotion. You, too, were scared out of your damned mind - his proposition is nothing you had ever considered in the past. The Jedi were your home, your safety net, and you could not imagine turning against them. Ben was your first love, your other half, the purpose of your life. It was time to decide, to determine your future. Time to choose: The dying Order, or Ben Solo. 

No longer learners, no longer Jedis. In a new type of rebellion, you took his hand. 

Your body jolts straight up, your eyes flashing open, back in the living room of your master's quarters. In front of you is the same man from your dream, with the same inky hair, honey brown eyes, and terrified expression on his face. His large hands clutch one of your own, his thumb tracing lines over the back in an attempt to soothe you. Without thinking, you breathily whisper his name. 

"Ben." 

Kylo Ren drops your hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links: 
> 
> [Luke's Jedi Temple](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Luke_Skywalker%27s_Jedi_temple) , [Kriff](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Kriff) , [Chandrila](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Chandrila) , [Speeder](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Speeder) , [Meditation Chamber](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Meditation_chamber/Legends) , [Info on Ben Solo's Turn to the Dark Side](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ben_Solo)


	4. Lost Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You _still_ see him.

When you were sixteen, you fell in love with Ben Solo’s eyes. The both of you had been training with Luke for a multitude of years, but Ben was exceptionally skilled for his age. During one of your first combat training sessions, you attempted an advanced maneuver that you had seen Luke perform on a previous mission. Before you could knock Ben’s practice saber out of his hand, he had already grabbed the hilt of your own. Swiping his leg behind your knees, he pushed his arms into your chest, knocking the both of you to the ground. You landed with a thump, bouncing slightly on the rubber flooring of the training center. He had the sabers crossed over your neck, their low energy creating small welts on your exposed skin. For a moment, your heart filled with fear, but the smile in his eyes broke you out of the shock. 

You had planned a snippy remark about his wandering hands, but you quickly abandoned it when Ben Solo’s eyes - the eyes you fell in love with - fixated on your face. Even under the fluorescent lighting, the color of his irises seemed to change, to morph; they ranged from shining topaz, to damp earth, to high-quality Cognac. They were evocative of Alderaanian sweet tea, glasses of Endorian caf, and the bottles of Corellian whiskey the two of you had stolen from his uncle’s personal stores. His eyes mimicked the sturdiness of the tallest wroshyr tree trunks, sprinkled with the other green flora that thrived on the planet of Kashyyyk. Ponds of hazel, surrounded by earthy moss and streaks of glistening gold. Within them, he guarded the secrets of the universe - disguising a millennium of confidential intelligence that he accumulated even before his birth. 

His entire visage was reminiscent of his father - the crooked nose, the deep brow ridge, the dimples that cornered his lips - they all belonged to Han Solo. But his eyes were softer; he had his mother’s eyes. Much like Ben, his mother carried much of the anger and mischievousness that her father possessed, while seeing the world with her mother’s eyes. Ben's mother, Leia, filled the galaxy with hope, fighting gallantly for freedom and justice for all - just as her parents had. Leia, like Ben, had her mother's eyes. Ben had heard it a million times - he carried the Naberrie lineage through his eyes, allowing his ancestors to see the world as he had. Through those same Naberrie eyes, his grandmother had compassionately fought for the preservation of democracy and peaceful resolutions of conflicts. She loved relentlessly and unforgivingly, winning the hearts of those around her with her vibrant personality. Centuries of deceased revolutionaries lived on in the eyes of Ben Solo. 

The eyes of Kylo Ren were different. They set your teeth on edge. As dark and wide as the galaxy itself, devoid of stars, nebulas, and asteroids, their depths draw you in to deform spacetime and swallow entire systems of planets within moments. Containing the vastness of a black hole, they’re able to accommodate a gravitational pull so strong that not even the fastest moving particles can escape their grasp. Piles of ashes cloud around his pupils, a bleak reminder of the casualties that have fallen victim to his blade. Like the bottomless abyss that is hell, they hold the thousands of souls that he has sent to purgatory while reflecting little of his own spirit. Instead, his emotions have been suppressed and extinguished after years of training and manipulation. Towering walls divide his dominant exterior from the pain, suffering, and sorrow that is hidden within his core - fear and panic buried deep behind his constricted pupils. Puddles of ink, his irises are uncommonly fluid in their gesticulation as they inspect every aspect of their surroundings. Sharply, they consume their environment, as if fragments of space debris and warped metal, obsidian and durasteel, border the edges of his stare. Kylo Ren's eyes are evocative of the force that consumed his grandfather, twisted and tainted, perverted to view his surroundings as evil. His eyes hold the spirit of Darth Vader. 

In both forms, his eyes hold you. They’re intoxicating; luring your soul into their depths. 

When you awoke, back in your master’s quarters, your first sight was of his eyes - _Ben Solo’s_ eyes. It was as if your repetitive nightmare was nothing but that - a bad dream. For a moment, you had allowed yourself to believe you were still living that last content memory, to imagine that you were still curled into his body on that tiny cot that sat in his hut at Luke Skywalker’s Temple - let yourself reminisce in the sensation of his skin on yours. The moment was fleeting, but you were certain - you had seen the comfort of Ben Solo’s eyes. It startled you and sent you into a brief state of shock. As far as Kylo Ren’s Knights are concerned, Benjamin C. Organa Solo died with the fall of the last Jedi Temple. 

Yet, still, all trances of Kylo Ren had fallen out of the eyes of the man sitting in front of you. For the first time in what felt like forever, _your Ben_ had been looking back at you. The name had been bitter on your tongue, leaving behind a lingering sense of horror and dread as it passed over your lips. It had been a momentary error, a slight misspeaking, a lapsus linguae. 

And, faster than he appeared, Ben is gone. Your stomach flips as you remind yourself that those eyes now belong to the monstrous murderer that is crouched ominously in front of you. 

Your hand bounces slightly as it hits the pale cushion below you, the room is silent but for the sound of strenuous breathing. Your body is switching continuously between its fight-or-flight responses; your mind struggles to remember the location of the closest exit, while your muscles flex to test their strength. All of the vigor in your limbs turns to mush as pure panic rises from the very base of your stomach - bile filling your throat while your body grows cold. 

Speaking _that_ name is forbidden.   
_That_ name was outlawed years ago.  
Punishable by extreme torture and death at the hands of the Supreme Leader Snoke. 

In slow motion, the scene unfolds in front of you. The change in his demeanor is almost instantaneous; he flips through an entire array of emotions, landing swiftly on an overwhelming amount of rage and fury. Long gone were the eyes of your star-crossed lover - fire had engulfed his pupils, destroying all traces of tenderness that had been present only seconds prior. The hand that had been holding your own shoots up and out to the side, while his eyes fixed on your face. You feel as he manipulates the Force around his lightsaber, pulling it towards his outstretched fingertips, grasping it tightly as it meets his palm. His force signature is unstable. You feel as the conflict rises up in his chest; you know he is deciding your fate. His signature in the Force is dimming, the light falling back and allowing for his strength in the dark side to show through. Twisting and tangling, his limbs move to disperse the power that fills his body, his hands shaking with adrenaline as his curled fist connects with your shoulder to push you back into the couch cushion. The motion was less than careful, but served the purpose to create a distance between the two of you. His eyes are hyper focused, darting around the room to find any outlet for his pent up aggression. He moves to stand in front of you, breathing heavily, igniting his lightsaber with a swift snap of his wrist. The broken crystal that lives at the center of the weapon flared dangerously through the hilt and the crossguard, as wild and unhinged as the man that wields it. The unstable core emits heat that warms your skin from a distance, the serrated edges snapping at the air that surrounds it. Flicking his gaze between your face and the metallic wall behind your head, his red blade swings down, connecting with its target. 

Kylo carves haphazard slashes through the objects in his path without regard for monetary, sentimental, or structural value. Sparks fly from the intersection between the plasma blade and the durasteel, fragments of the glowing metal flitting around the room. The embers, still illuminated red and orange, scatter across the carpeted floor and the surrounding furniture, continuing to burn once they make contact. A heavy haze of acrid fumes permeates your lungs, creating a translucent cloud that rises toward the ceiling. 

The white couch below you becomes the final victim of Kylo’s assault, quickly succumbing to a swift blow from the saber. The blade skims past your body, striking the fabric inches from where you are lying. The couch folds in half below you as the frame collapses. Now at an incline, your still frozen body slides down to the floor, the singed material tingles your exposed skin, leaving behind a trail of soot where it touches you. The shattered goods continue to sizzle, crackling and protesting, as Kylo Ren sinks to his knees in front of you. 

Kylo’s hair is plastered to his face, sweat serving as a type of adhesive to hold his normally wavy locks tightly against the skin of his forehead and temples. His breathing is still ragged, his chest quaking with each gasp he pulls into his lungs. With each shaking breath, the hair that covers his mouth writhes, contorting to match the tattered remains of his self-restraint. The blood that flushes his face is emphasized by the glow cast onto his skin by his saber and the molten metal in front of him. His features seem gaunt and tight in the lowly lit room, the strain in his muscles pulling his physique to appear much older. Sliding the switch on the hilt, the blade is extinguished. His hand relaxes at his side, and he drops the weapon onto the floor beside him. Slowly, he raises his eyes to look upon the damage he had created, before looking down at the ground again. 

"Do not speak that name," is all he mutters. 

Joint by joint, you regain the ability to control your limbs. After a few failed attempts, you’re able to coordinate your movements and pull yourself to your feet. Kylo stays seated on the floor, having pulled his feet under himself, straightening his spine and closing his eyes. You know that he is centering himself - trying to focus his attention on the Force to achieve complete emotional control. However, you can still feel the disorder and turmoil that is present in his mind, preventing him from fully relaxing. 

On the larger part of the recently split couch, you notice that your oiled cloak is resting over the back, now draping slightly onto the floor. Your feet feel slightly numb as you take your first few steps to collect the cloak and hang it over Kylo’s shoulders. Despite the addition of the layer, he remains motionless. The only acknowledgment of your action is a slight shift in his energy; a small band of light- gratitude- entering his typically dark signature. 

Reaching out with your mind, manipulating the Force around the weapon, you lift his lightsaber from the floor. A loose wire exposed from the hilt pulls your attention, and you make a mental note to have Dex examine the weapon before departure on the looming mission. You rest it on the countertop of his kitchenette; it joins a pile of dangerous looking devices. This collection grows by the day, becoming larger and more menacing as the time passes. Kylo’s datapad rests beside the sink, discarded earlier while you had been rinsing the dye from his hair. Knowing that yours was lost within the wreckage that now makes up his living room, you use his to order for a cleaning crew. Entering the familiar passcode, 124329, you send out the request to the general channel for the service crew. 

**Sender:** Datapad MF-12  
**Standard Time:** 01:21:20  
**Request:** Cleaning droids mobilize to attend to the personal quarters of Commander Kylo Ren. Multiple units required. Various debris including: warped durasteel, charred furniture, etc. 

“You’ve got to move, Ky,” you whisper, not wishing to startle him, walking towards where he is sitting. “The cleaning droids will be back shortly.” 

He does not flinch when you place your hand on his shoulder. Taking this as a sign to continue, you bend down to pull him up by his hands. He stands, despite the lack of strength remaining in his muscles, leaving you to carry most of his body weight. Step by step, you guide his swaying frame towards his room, hoping to make it to his bed before the both of you collapse. 

Like the living room, his bedroom is in shambles - many of his possessions displaced, more torn metal and broken furniture litter the floor. The cleaning droids, hopefully, would wait until tomorrow to address this mess; Kylo needs as much sleep as he can get. He’s a restless sleeper - stirring often, shouting and screaming with the mayhem that happens in his dreams. 

You half-throw his body into the bed, using all of your strength to get his gigantic head onto the pillow. His legs swing up to rest at the foot of the bed, missing your head by only a few inches. Thank the Daughter he didn’t have his boots on; he could knock you out with one stray kick in the right spot. His eyes close as you pull the top sheet over his body, struggling to loosen it from where the droids had tucked it in as they made the bed. You push the hair off his forehead, knowing that he sleeps better that way. Your fingers linger at this temple, curling a tiny curl around your pinky. Caressing his cheek, you sigh and pull away. 

“Stay.” The word is muffled, half of his face smothered within his pillow. 

“The Knights…” you answer. Your response is weak, knowing that you are already convinced to spend the night in his bed. 

“Just stay.” His tone is much more authoritative than his last request. His eyes remain closed, but his arms reach out to pull you into his chest. 

Your internal battle was completely lost; you crawl under the sheet, allowing him to tug your body closer. His hands wander under and up the shirt that you had on, his nails digging lightly into the skin of your lower back. Your skin is in stark contrast to his; the warmth of his hands shocking your frigid system. 

You feel his muscles relax against you as he falls asleep; the arm around your waist growing heavier, and his breathing becoming slower. With each of his inhales, his chest gets closer to your face, wafting the fragrance of his skin in the direction of your nose. Remnants of burning embers, his worn leather tunic, and sharp ozone mix to create the familiar scent of Kylo Ren. Most nights you spend with him, his presence coddles and comforts you, lulling you to sleep. Tonight, however, the release of unconsciousness evades you. You yearn for senselessness - you’re desperate for it - wanting nothing more than to lack the ability to overthink the complexity of the man you cling to. 

In this dark room, surrounded by dark sheets and dark thoughts, it's hard to recall the light that was Ben Solo. You hate thinking about him in that phrasing - always in the past tense. Ben Solo _was_ \- as if he is now dead. He exists in flashes; appearing in a staggering burst, and vanishing before your eyes can even adjust. The flashes are in constant conflict with the side of him that is Kylo Ren. There is a fighting within him that battles at all hours of the day; his tortured soul existing in turmoil. With each day that passes, there is more Kylo Ren and less Ben Solo present in his life force. The frequency of Ben’s appearances have become sparse. Each time Ben emerges, you’re left breathless and inconsolable, your resolve and composure dissolving instantaneously. 

But, in that moment earlier tonight, you were certain. You had seen Ben’s eyes. Ben had held your hand. And then he had let go. 

No.  
Ben Solo would not have let go of your hand. Ben Solo would have held on.  
Kylo Ren dropped your hand.  
Ben Solo is not yet dead - no matter how hard Kylo Ren protests - you had seen the proof.  
Ben Solo is alive. 

You see him far more often than the other Knights - usually within the confines of his personal quarters, or the dim-lit corners of forgotten hallways. That is not to say that the other five of The Knights of Ren have never known Ben Solo. Each of them had loved Ben Solo - just as you had. The six of you: Ben’s lover, Ben’s best friend, Ben’s cousin, Ben’s apprentice, Ben’s ally, Ben’s comrade… You all had your place - hand-selected by Ben himself. Even before his turn, he had known that he wanted the six of you by his side for the rest of his life. No matter how hard Kylo Ren tried to change the past, the six of his Knights were an unquestionable link to his other life. Each of you carry a reservoir of memories of the man he tries so hard to kill. 

Like the legacy of Ben Solo, the dream of your life with him lives on. 

In the New Jedi Order, the growing relationship between Ben and yourself had been a possibility. Luke had realized that his father’s fall to the dark side could be greatly attributed to his inability to seek guidance for the protection of his wife due to their unlawful marriage. For a very long time, many of Luke’s pupils had assumed that he had changed the rule for his own personal gain. On a mission to Myrkr, Luke had crossed paths with a smuggler named Mara. You’d met her a few times; you’d even gone on a mission with her in the earlier years of your training. Every time you saw her, you were amazed by her strikingly auburn hair and her boisterous laugh - a stark contrast from the quiet and conservative nature of Luke Skywalker. In your last memory of her, she was preparing for a solo mission to a moon of a planet on the Outer Rim, instructing R2-D2 to program the navigation system to follow a specific route. She laughed loudly when Luke tripped on a stray wrench in the hanger. He offered to send his droid on the mission to aid her, but she declined. She kissed Luke’s cheek. She hugged you. She waved to Ben. She said she’d be back in three standard days. And she left. You never saw her again. Ben thought she died. You used to pray to the Daughter that she was still trying to get back to Luke. 

When Mara disappeared, Luke changed. The once patient and kind man became turbulent. Although he tried to hide his instability, you were able to see his unease. His force signature trembled as if it was weeping, its intensity fading in and out. He was shaken to his core, unable to cope with the thought that his dear Mara was gone. The loss made Luke much more strict with his students. He no longer allowed the oldest of you to venture on solo missions, and limited the time you were allowed to be away from the Temple. By disallowing trips to visit family and revoking the privilege of starships, the preexisting wedge between Ben and Luke grew larger. 

Ben always wanted to be a pilot. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of his father, and of the man he had thought that his grandfather was. Late at night, Ben would tell you all of the stories his parents had shared with him about their adventures. Tales of rebellion, redemption and hope. He wanted to make an impact as considerable and as noble as his uncle. Ben told you about all of his aspirations - Ben had so much hope for the future. 

If he had followed those plans, the two of you would have told Luke about your relationship. You wanted so badly to tell Luke - you were going to tell Luke. You wish you could go back and tell Luke the full extent of the things you had witnessed in the presence of Ben Solo - the things you should have pieced together as warnings of Kylo Ren. You had known Ben Solo best - you should have seen the cracks of his faith in the New Jedi Order. You should have seen his wavering hope for the future he should have had with you. 

Just before Ben's 24th birthday, he was scheduled to undergo the formal Trials of Knighthood within the New Jedi Order. Ben would’ve been the first of Luke’s apprentices to achieve knighthood. To celebrate his achievement, Ben planned to take you to Naboo, to show you the lake country that he spoke so fondly of. Many times, he had told you about the romance that his grandparents harbored there, speaking in great envy of their eternal love. You thought that he would’ve proposed while on the trip; you hoped to elope immediately - just as his grandparents had. As planned, he would’ve also been the first to take his own apprentice. He would’ve trained Dex to be strong in the light side of the Force, rather than to become the dark warrior that Dex is now. You could’ve had children; Ben always spoke of having two or three. Even to this day, you often try and imagine what your kids would have looked like. You never can quite draw up their distinct features, but they always have one thing in common - they had a mop of Ben’s dark hair on top of their heads. They, like their parents, would have trained under the ideals of Luke’s New Order - with their father as their mentor. Ben would’ve passed on what he had learned - fulfilling one of the central codes of the New Jedi Order. Ben never met any of these milestones - Kylo Ren rose three weeks prior to the initial challenge. Instead, the prospective mother of Ben Solo’s never-to-be-born children lives under the ceaseless authority of the man that wants nothing more than their father to be dead. 

There were many loose threads in the future you wanted to construct with Ben, but they were quickly abandoned with the betrayal of Luke Skywalker against his nephew. That future was gone - every aspect stripped from you by the man you had regarded as an artificial father. Just thinking his name brings fire into your stomach, sparking a rage in your very soul for ruining the perfect life you had built in your mind. Nonetheless, despite all of the anger he causes you, you can not convince yourself that you hate Luke Skywalker. You long to be back home - back at the Temple with the family you had helped Luke collect. 

Thinking of your lost future is cathartic; it allows you a break from the horror show that is your current station in life. This is the only time you let yourself cry - while you’re tucked away in your master’s quarters, only after he has fallen asleep. 

You’re jostled from your daydream as Kylo Ren shifts beside you. The strawman of Ben Solo that you had recreated blows in the wind as the true personality of the man laying with you creeps back into your head. You force your thoughts onto the upcoming mission, trying to distract yourself from all of the opportunities you had lost. You know the consequences of your wondering imagination are more than just the extreme sorrow you feel in your chest. Kylo Ren had caught you reminiscing a few times; each instance ending in disaster. Fearing his wrath, you focus on his shifting features. 

You watch as the corners of his mouth twitch lightly before spreading into a small smirk. He whispers your name - your true name. The emotional pain that had been localized to your chest, spreads to consume your body. His breath fans across your face, and you can’t help but smile sadly at the man sleeping peacefully in front of you. You revel in the moment - and how much he looks like Ben Solo while he's sleeping - knowing that his pleasant slumber would soon be interrupted by dark thoughts and night terrors. Never fully awake, he’ll scream out for his mother, his father, even his uncles - requesting that they bring him home. He’ll cry for the same things you are - your lost future. 

Like always, you will be there. You’ll hold him, and coax him back to sleep when he jolts up and out of the bed. You’ll once again see the terror in Ben Solo’s eyes, but you’ll bring him back to his persona of Kylo Ren. 

Just as the voice had instructed you.  
And, after all, good soldiers follow orders. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only time I could write this chapter was while I was watching Hamilton… I think I watched it 6 or 7 times. Eliza’s screams make me cry every time. I’ve been gone for forever -- just working on the outline of this book… Something I should’ve done before I even started writing… But I’m here now! I’ll be going back and editing the 3 previous chapters shortly, and then I will be back to regular updating. 
> 
> Links: [Training Saber](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Training_lightsaber/Legends) , [Endorian Caf (Coffee)](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Endorian_caf_bean) , [Corellian Whiskey](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Corellian_whiskey) , [Alderaanian Tea](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Tea) , [Wroshyr Tree](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Wroshyr_tree) [On Kashyyyk](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Kashyyyk) , [Han Calling Toddler Ben's Eyes Ancient](https://books.google.com/books?id=PmBKDwAAQBAJ&pg=PT21&lpg=PT21&dq=han+calling+ben+solo%27s+eyes+ancient&source=bl&ots=1qQiGB0Lvd&sig=ACfU3U2ch_0pVAF3sY4K9dnoaoWkpePUkQ&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjxr9KZ7MjqAhWOVc0KHY_GDREQ6AEwFXoECAsQAQ#v=onepage&q=han%20calling%20ben%20solo's%20eyes%20ancient&f=false) , [Leia Describing Ben in the Force as: "a living band of light that occasionally dims, sometimes thrust through with a vein of darkness](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ben_Solo) , [Kyber Crystal](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Kyber_crystal), [Meditation](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Meditation#:~:text=The%20basics%20of%20Jedi%20meditation,would%20be%20able%20to%20fill.) , [Kylo's Passcode (124-329)](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Han_Solo) , [Mara](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Mara_Jade_Skywalker) , [Jedi Trials](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Jedi_Trials/Legends)


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